


Kink Prompts

by badtasteunlimited



Category: Persona 4, Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions, Yu-Gi-Oh!, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Age Difference, Biting, Bloodplay, Breathplay, F/M, Face-Fucking, Fantasizing, Hair-pulling, Kink Meme, Masturbation, Other, Outdoor Sex, Pain, Power Imbalance, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sadism, Sexual Content, Sexual Frustration, Verbal Humiliation, Writing on Skin, v light tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-26 13:22:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9899000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badtasteunlimited/pseuds/badtasteunlimited
Summary: what it says on the tin. i use http://promptgenerator.tumblr.com/kink2 for prompts. obligatory: characters are aged up, i write and have disgusting taste to cope with personal experience.





	1. preface

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> info for ppl who want to find fics in case this gets unmanageable...

obligatory: characters are aged up, i write and have disgusting taste to cope with personal experience.

chapters are as follows:  
1\. sexual frustration + cumming in one's pants, adachi/fem!protag (implied noncon)  
2\. writing on the skin + pain, yami bakura/reader (ambiguous gender)  
3\. stubble + biting, shouta aizawa/reader (ambiguous gender)  
4\. sex outside + age gaps, nanu/reader (nearly ambiguous gender if i wasn't so hung up on nanu calling me a good girl in-game lmao)

5\. power imbalance + bruises or other wounds, adachi/fem!protag (some humiliation, lots of reluctance, noncon. please take note.)

someone help me out so i can write more depraved shit. i need a real jerk.


	2. sexual frustration + cumming in one's pants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what it says on the tin. i use http://promptgenerator.tumblr.com/kink2 for prompts. in this chapter, adachi fantasizes about fem!protag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> obligatory: protag is aged up, i write and have disgusting taste to cope with personal experience.
> 
> not obligatory: i imagine that dojima always texts in all caps and everyone thinks he's mad all the time but he just doesn't get it...  
> Chapter Management

_Fucking kid._

Tohru Adachi stretched against his flimsy office chair, hands flung toward the ceiling and neck craning to see if anyone was near the door to his office. Dojima’s office, really, since the men shared what little room there was in the podunk police station.

You’d think he’d be doing work right now, given that Dojima was away from the office to attend to a sick Nanko for a few hours after pulling him out from school, which meant no more impromptu coffee runs. But no, Adachi wasn’t getting any work done--he was thinking about Narukami Yuu, of course. That brat and her troupe of friends had become a real thorn in his side lately. Not only did Narukami live with his boss, but she and her kid friends had been sneaking around and getting into trouble, trying to figure out what he was up to--not that they knew it was him.

Adachi had a feeling that she didn’t even suspect him, the way Narukami always made up excuses to see him. It seemed like she had a silly, schoolgirl crush. Oh, sure, she’d accidentally made too much lunch and sent him and a bento with Dojima. Yeah, she happened to doze off leaning against his shoulder after they helped a tipsy Dojima into the door. It was just a coincidence when she let her uniform skirt ride up the time she invited him to have some of the meal she was making for herself and Nanako.

Not that he minded. If she was going to show off for him, it’s not like he wasn’t going to look. Shitty as her supposed investigation skills were, her body was a knockout. He’d wrapped an arm around her on the night the two of them helped Dojima to his room and felt the cinch of her waist. Add that to the generous cleavage she’d forgotten was on display, and it wasn’t hard to tell that she had pinup proportions.

It was a damn shame she lived with Dojima. If any other teenage girl with such an obvious thing for him was messing around in his extracurricular activity of choice, he’d find some excuse to pay her a visit and maybe keep her quiet. But no, the buxom brat had to live with another cop. Another cop that was his boss.

She seemed like such a good girl, too-- always offering meals and spending time with Nanako. She probably knew how to take care of a man. More than that bitch, Yamano. Narukami would probably be just as mouthy and useless as the other one, though, if her inclination towards detective work was any indication.

Adachi looked over at the empty bento box on his desk, then to its twin on Dojima’s. They were both gaudy, plastic, and covered in cartoon cats.

 _You had extra, huh, Narukami-chan?_ He sneered. He could only imagine her blushing, stumbling over her words as she tried to make her excuse sound even a little convincing.

_You’re a smart girl. You should know what it looks like to keep bringing me bentos like you do--it might even look like you’re sweet on me, you know?_

He’d like to grab her by the chin and make that brat look him in the eyes. _You think I wouldn’t notice how you’ve been trying to impress me? I don’t think you know what you’re getting into._

Leaning over slightly to make sure the window to the door was as empty as it had been five minutes ago, Adachi idly palmed the crotch of his pants.

_You see what you do to me, kid? You gonna take responsibility for this?_

He unbuckled his belt and slipped his hand into his pants. He could see Narukami’s grey eyes as if they were actually in front of him. As if she were standing before him, wordless. _Fuck it, let me have this._ He thought about tangling his fingers in her short, grey hair and giving it a gentle tug before forcing her head onto his cock, skin separated from skin only by the strained fabric of his pants.

_What’re you gonna do about this? You got me hard, and now I can hardly control myself. This is what happens when cute girls like you strut around in your “modified” high school uniforms, flirting with older men. And you know what those men wanna do to you, don’t you?_

He could practically feel her shaking her head gently against him.

_They want to do this, Narukami. They want to feel those cute lips on their cocks, see your mouth stuffed with them. You sure you can handle that, little girl?_

He’d have his cock in her mouth whether or not she wanted it there or not. He’d teach her what good girls did for the men they teased-- _Hard to say no to swallowing cum with my cock halfway down your throat._ The thought made him smirk and take a sharp breath, using the first hints of precum as lubrication.

He wanted to hear her moan onto his hardness, to feel the vibrations in her warm, tight mouth. She’d know better than to let her teeth scrape his length. That’d earn her some forceful facefucking and, if she wasn’t careful, a pinched nose. _You wouldn’t want that, Narukami-chan, would you? I’d hate to have to make you uncomfortable._ He’d watch her squirm under him, sucking eagerly either to pleasure him or to breathe, not that it mattered which. It was the thought of her constricted airway and the growing redness in her face that tipped him over the edge. He felt a growing sense of regret at the wet spot on his slacks, but not enough to stop him from riding out his orgasm under his desk.

_How’s that for a lesson, Narukami-chan? You think you’ll know how to treat a man right from now on?_

He couldn’t help a self-satisfied smirk at the thought. No sooner did he could crack that grin, though, than his phone lit up on his desk.

**ADACHI. DID U GET THAT PAPERWORK FOR THE KONISHI CASE FINISHED YET?**

Great. Right. He had two messes to attend to.


	3. writing on the skin + pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what it says on the tin. i use http://promptgenerator.tumblr.com/kink2 for prompts. this week on dragon ball z: Yami Bakura hurts a cheeky ambiguously-gendered protagonist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had a crush on yami bakura as a kid and i would love him to kick me and tell me i'm disgusting tbh. thank you, my first villain crush, u r a symptom of my depravity.
> 
> i wanted to try to write at like ass o' clock in the morning. characters are aged up. i wanted to focus on pain and humiliation that aren't necessarily inherently erotic but still gave me the shivers.

“Do you think I should let you up, pet?”

You hate it when he talks like that. Of course you do, who wouldn’t? It always sounds like trashy chick lit. Regardless, you don’t really want to get up in the slightest. You’re lying under Bakura, sort of. Well, you’re lying under his scary, crazy-eyed double. Are they doubles if they share the same body? You don’t care, as long as he keeps it consistent while he’s with you. That’s your arrangement.

“Well? Do you have anything to say to that?”

You wince as he pulls on one of the binder clips pinching your skin--hey, the two of you made do with what you had. Today, it was a couple clips, sharpies, and some shitty twine.

“Whatever you want,” you swallow. “My Lord.”

Again, trashy. You have a deal, though. He talks, you listen until prompted to respond. He scratches that itch you just can’t reach, and you stroke his ego. Of course, you wouldn’t mind stroking the rest of him, but there’s just something about his personality that you know you couldn’t stand if you weren’t in restraints and hopelessly desperate. That, and he never showed any interest in doing anything but hurting you.

“I think,” he kneeled to get a look at your face, “that I want you to get up.” He sawed at the restraints around your wrists and ankles with a set of keys. When he finishes and looks at you expectantly, you think you almost see a bit of his other self.

Maybe it’s just time to go, you think. You thought. The thought lasts a split second before you double over in agony, curling into yourself to protect your sides. The binder clips on your limbs and torso are torn off in the haste of your reaction, making you whimper in anticipation of the next wave of pain. You hear cackling, distant or quiet or somehow separate from the two of you.

The bastard kicked you in the ribs. Hard.

“Pathetic.”

You feel fingernails against your scalp as he grabs a handful of your hair and forces you to your knees before him. No, he’s not going to take his cock out. You know you don’t deserve that, that that’s not what he wants, that it’s not what you agreed on.

“We’ve been having these little rendez-vous for how long, now, and you’re still so resistant. It’s almost as if you don’t learn a thing.”

What the fuck are you supposed to learn from these meetings, other than how low you’ll go for some new masturbatory ammo? You look up at him, trying to keep the impatience (insolence, he’d say) out of your eyes.

“Well,” he twists the fistful of hair without a second thought, snapping you out of your reverie. “How about this for a reminder?” He asked the room, uncapping a marker with his free hand. Cool air hits the trail of ink left on your forehead and cheeks, making you wonder what he’s been writing. You try to puzzle it out from the patterns he’s tracing on your arms, your thighs, your stomach. _Useless, Helpless, Whore_.

“Admiring my work?” He smiled, turning your head to the side. You open your lips but remain silent, unsure what he’s going for and still hurting from that kick. He forces your head against the cool floor, smearing fresh ink onto your cheek but allowing you enough of a glimpse of your face to make out what he’s written. _Use me_.

Wait, what? That was new. You didn’t think he got off on this enough to want to use you like _that_. Shit--your thoughts are interrupted by a thick, rubber sole bearing on your head. The pressure increases as the heel of Bakura’s sneaker grinds into your temple. You let out the better part of a gasp when you feel his knee rest on your throat.

“I want to see tears, pet.”

You can’t swallow, you can’t breathe, but you can feel his eyes on you. They’re cold and unresponsive even when you give him what he wants (you only know you’ve done this because your cheeks are wet), cold and unresponsive even when he’s smiling. This isn’t safe, this can’t be safe and you see yellow and purple dots popping and re-forming at the top of your eyes, and you don’t see that fucker Bakura anymore but you do feel his weight squeezing the life out of you and--

The weight on your neck eases and your vision sharpens. You nearly knock your tormentor off of you in a coughing fit as you come to, but he’s steadying himself, crushing your nose against the linoleum to save his own ass.

When you were semi-conscious, he must have taken his cock out of his pants, because next thing you know it’s hitting the back of your throat and you guess that he _does_ want to use you like that. His fists are back in your hair, definitely ripping some of it out, and he’s holding your head against himself, not giving you an inch of breathing room around him in the time you’re able to sit still, when he isn’t jerking himself with your mouth.

Your teeth are in the way, which earns you a hand on your throat (but you miss them both in your hair, tugging) and a sharp, claustrophobic jolt as your airway constricts. You moan around his length not like a lover but like a victim of assault, which must be the last straw, because he shoves you off of him and into a heap on the ground, not deigning to cum inside your mouth but onto the floor.

“If you want to see me again, you’d better make sure that’s cleaned up, pet.”


	4. beards/stubble + biting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader of ambiguous gender and Aizawa get freaky in some janitor's closet. Like, the most vanilla thing I have ever written/will ever write for myself when it comes to chars I lust after. V short, but I want to put something out and punch myself out of filth-block

You don’t know how exactly you got here. It all happened pretty fast.

You remember meeting up with Aizawa at Takoba Stadium. You both had students testing for their provisional licenses. Yeah, that sounds right. But what happened between then and now was a blur of descending steps and his hand tugging yours that ended with the click of a closet door shutting, louder in your ears than in reality (at least, you hope).

Almost immediately, his lips are on your neck and he’s fussing with your zipper. Not that you can blame him for being antsy—you never know when you’re going to get called back from these things.

You can feel his words on your skin, neglected stubble on his chin scratching against your collarbones as he murmurs something or other about how long it’s been since you’ve seen each other. Considering your relative state of undress to his, you tug at his scarf to level the playing field. Looks like it’s been long enough for hickies to fade, at least.

You took that as a challenge, digging your fingers into his hair and wresting his head from your neck, tugging on his hair to encourage him to expose his neck. Soft, pleased exhales turn to hitching breath turn to impatient growls as you tease Aizawa with your teeth. You draw blood and watch it well around crescent-shaped indents on his neck before licking it and giving him a peck on the lips.

“What am I gonna do with you?” he breathed, pushing you to the ground.

He straddled your chest, knees on either side of your torso. You couldn’t make out much of his face in the darkness (or past a curtain of unruly hair), but you looked up at him with mock-defiance regardless.

“I’m sure you can think of something.”

It was normally quick and dirty. If you had a normal relationship (whatever that meant for two pro heros), you might warm each other up first. You’d have enough time to get used to each other, learn what you liked. Maybe you’d be able to fall asleep with your arms around him, some time a long time from now. But for now, you’d make do with a quickie in the closet. 

In fairness, though, neither of you were unhappy with your current arrangement: Running into some semi-private area, untucking and unbuttoning one another’s clothes, and aching a bit for the rest of the day because your ass was jammed up against a janitor’s cart for a rather action-packed half-hour. It'd do for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm back on my bullshit and i think aizawa is cute but writing like regular porn isn't as satisfying as writing porn where self-insert is treated like dirt. need more Evil characters to write that for that'll feel not too ooc.
> 
> also, i see a lot of bottom aizawa. let aizawa be a switch. an all-over-the-place switch.


	5. sex outside + age gaps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader, a new Team Skull recruit, has a run in with the cops. The only cop. The sad cop. It's Nanu. Sex-hijinx ensue.

You don’t know how you got here. Like, of course you _knew_ : Nanu was on his regular patrol of the Po Town Outskirts, and you were wandering around its outskirts without purpose, a new recruit of Team Skull.

Maybe it’s just because you were new or had some disdain for authority figures, some emotional baggage, but you shot off at the mouth when the two of you crossed paths. Events came in snapshots: you jabbing your finger into his chest, looking up at his face— _was he smirking?_ —and, the last straw, you walking past him with your nose up, checking his arm with your shoulder. 

Maybe he’d had a long day. Maybe some other hooligan had vandalized his home. Maybe he had just run out of food for the Meowth he took care of, but something about your scrawny shoulder pushed him over the edge. You felt fingers digging into your shoulder as he spun you around, turning your body back to face him.

“Look at me, kid.”

You fixed your eyes on his chin, head lowered, not really wanting to meet his eyes. You talked a big game, but you didn't feel like a lecture right now. 

“Look at me.”

And you did, in no small part because he had your jaw between his thumb and index finger. His eyes, normally lazily scanning whatever area he was in at the time, didn’t leave your face for what felt like forever.

Before you knew what you were doing, you felt yourself raise a shaky hand and place it on his. “G-get your hands offa me,” you choked out, tugging at his arm. _It’s time to get outta here_.

His eyes dipped at your touch, but they didn’t stop at your hand.

You felt a smirk creep across your face despite yourself. _Or I could stay for a while._  

“What’re you looking at?”

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with,” he snapped. It was then that he shook your hands off of him and moved his grip from your shoulder to the straps of your tank top. He held them both in one hand, using them like one would use the collar of a t-shirt, gaining leverage and pulling you closer to him.

“I think it’s time you and your gang of fools learned some goddamned respect for authority.”

“Yeah?” Your smirk grew into a grin. “What’re you gonna do about it? Have me write lines? Tell my parents?” You actually laughed in his face, maintaining eye contact out of spite. “Face it, you don’t have any control here, _officer_.”

You spat the last word. Literally, you welled up what felt like a substantial amount of saliva and spat on his face.

That was it.

That was the last non-hazy moment you could remember. And now here you were, stuck between this washed up cop and the side of his house. You’ve been kissing for who-knows-how-long. His lips were kind of dry, but the neediness you felt made that a non-issue. 

You felt him wedge a knee between your thighs, forcing you to adjust your footing and let out some kind of girly sound. You _probably_ could have not effectively moaned into his mouth if you’d wanted to stop yourself, but—as was the theme of the day, apparently—you wanted to see if you could rile him up any more than you already had. 

And how. He tore himself away from your mouth, and you could just _feel_ him glaring at you. You tried to suppress a smirk and kept your eyes lowered (because it worked out so well before).

“That’s all that’s gonna get through to you, is it?”

He didn’t wait for your response, instead further stretching the straps of your tank top by wrenching them out of the way again. You felt your sweat-sticky skin peeling off the vinyl siding of the police station as he pulled you toward him. You chewed on your lower lip and fought a grin. It was a little embarrassing, but you really did like getting the old man all hot and bothered.

“Yeah, looks like this is the only way I can get your attention.” He punctuated his observation by lacing his fingers through your hair and jerking your head forward only to whirl you around and press you back against the side of the station. He kept one hand on the back of your head and slipped a thumb through your belt loops, using them to tug your hips back toward him. 

“So this is what you’re into?” You quipped—you figured you could still tease him without looking at him. With your ass basically pushed against his hips, you could tell it had been working earlier. “Kahuna Nanu gets off to detaining girls?”

A brief, sharp pain in the back of your head told you that you probably right. But the pain didn’t last. He’d pulled your hair tighter than before, yeah, but he’d let go and was fumbling with something.

“Lost your nerve, officer?”

You snickered as he reached for your wrist with the hand that wasn’t on your hips. 

“No, just my patience.”

You would’ve rolled your eyes if it wasn’t for the cool touch of _oh my God, are those handcuffs?_ You craned your neck as much as you could to see what was going on. _Is this a joke?_

“You can’t be serious,” you laughed, half nervous, half genuinely amused.

“As a heart attack.”

Was there a word for speaking through a real nasty smirk? Because boy, is that what he was doing. _Ugh_.

“Fuck off,” you muttered, testing out the new restraints. He had your arms twisted uncomfortably behind your back and shackled in serious steel. Like, real-ass handcuffs. Like, chafing-your-wrists-already handcuffs. Fuck if it wasn’t pretty hot, though.

You tried to shift your weight a bit but wound up resting all of it on his thigh. You inhaled sharply. _Shit_.

“I feel like that’s not what you want at all." 

It was true, and you knew it. But you had no intention of giving him the satisfaction of being right.

“Is that right?” His hand on your ass made you jump. A quick smack followed by a squeeze prompted you to grind onto his thigh.

“Shut up,” you breathed. “You think you can push me around? If you haven’t noticed, we outnumber you around here.”

He snorted in response and jammed a forearm between your shoulder blades, flattening you against the building. He used the hand on your ass to tug down your shorts.

“What I’ve noticed is that you like being a tease.” His fingers were between your legs as if seeking to prove his point. You shuddered a bit and tried to position yourself such that you were pushed against his hand. “And what I think you should learn,” he continued, “is that trying to provoke a man won’t get you what you want.”

With that, you found yourself being pushed to your knees. The grass tickled where your shorts has been pulled down, but there wasn’t much time to think on that before you felt a tug on the strap of your tank top, some sort of suggestion to turn around. 

“It’s not a fucking leash, you know,” you whined. But you complied, turning around to face him and lifting yourself so that you weren’t resting on the backs of your legs at his encouragement-slash-tugging. You looked up at him, pretty pointless when his face was in shadow, but you could see he was mulling over something.

“I think,” he returned his hand to the back of your head, “if you wanna use your mouth so badly, I’ll let you.” He looked down at you as if he expected you to do something. “Ah, right, you can’t deal with a zipper. I’ll give you a hand,” he snickered. “Looks like you could use one.”

You actually rolled your eyes this time.

“Come on, you were so talkative earlier,” he jammed a thumb into your mouth, threatening to pry it open. “Open up.”

You did. He was hard, like you figured, but by no means ready to just finish and let you go. You ran your tongue along the underside of his shaft, trying to get some sort of reaction out of him. 

“I don’t think so.”

Hands clung tightly to your hair, fingernails digging into your scalp.

“I’ve had enough of you doing whatever you want. Be good and just go along.”

You almost choked—yeah, you’d tried to see how far you could push it with your boyfriend before, and sure, you’d joked around about deep throating popsicles or bananas or some other phallic shit with your friends—and then he moved. You did choke. 

Well, he moved your head, at least. He could have been stone still for all you knew—your focus was on oxygen as this fucking cop basically jerked off with your mouth. And _fuck_ , it was hot. You groaned onto him.

“It sounds like you’re having a good time,” he mumbled, holding your head in place against his pelvis. “Remember, this isn’t about what you want. And watch the teeth.”

You gagged around his cock and your wrists strained against those stupid handcuffs. You wrapped your lips around your teeth, something you’d neglected in your earlier pursuits of, you know, breathing.

“Good girl,” he exhaled. Was he petting your hair with his other hand? You’d think about it later. Right now, his pace was picking up and his movements becoming more frenetic. You’d barely swallowed when he pulled your head back violently, letting cum cover your face and hair.

He must’ve let go at some point, because you sat back on your feet again and focused on getting air back into your lungs. You don’t know how long it was before Nanu spoke again, but it must’ve been a hot minute, because he was completely put-together when you looked up to respond.

“You’re a mess.”

“Like I’m supposed to look like camera-ready after all that,” you grumbled, wiping at a few streaks of seed and licking your index finger. You eyed the guy for a minute, looking for some kind of reaction. _Huh, nothing. Must’ve been a lot of pent-up frustration_. You almost giggled at the thought but stopped yourself, stumbling to your feet and wriggling the rest of the way back into your shorts. “Plus, you ruined my fuckin’ shirt.”

“Sounds like you didn’t learn a thing,” he sighed, walking toward the door to his home. “Get out of here.”

“Yeah, yeah. This ain’t the last you’ve seen of Team Skull, Kahuna,” you sneered, turning back towards the walled city you called home.

_Maybe I need to be taught another lesson._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly i just love grumpy old men and suckin dick? i wanted to make this a gender-neutral reader, but good girl sounds so much less weird than "good kid," so i ran with it. i also want to get all the objects of my lust on this stupid compilation, clearly. i'll go back to yami bakura or adachi or something at some point tho cuz they're the only ones i feel comfortable writing as the nasty misogynist of my daydreams without being super ooc.
> 
> anyway thanks for all the kudos and shit, i forgot that bnha has an active fandom and would bring people to read my horribleness. i've also been on a bit of a guro kick, so i might do some torture/pain shit next. and maybe i'll even write not in the second person. whoa.


	6. power imbalance + bruises or other wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a loss, F!Protag is left alone in the entrance to Magatsu-Inaba with Adachi, who's been eyeing her since she first arrived in town. Depravity ensues.

“Hard to believe someone who rescued all those people would lose like this.”

Tohru Adachi stared down at the kid who’d been fucking up his plans for the better part of a year. It wasn’t his preferred way of getting a girl into his apartment, what with the apartment being a bastardized, TV World version of itself. But the girl? His boss’s niece? That’s fine. And she was collapsed, basically helpless, on his floor? Even better.

He wedged the toe of his shoe under her cheek and lifted it slightly, forcing her to meet his eyes. But she kept them on the floor.

“Look at me, Seta. I haven’t hurt you that bad,” he joked. Yet.

She complied. It wasn’t worth putting up a fight at this point.

“‘Atta girl. See how easy things are when you do what you’re told?” His voice stayed superficially saccharine, but his smile was cruel. He jerked his foot out from under her head, letting it drop to the floor with a brain-rattling thud. Seta whimpered upon impact and covered her head with her arms, shaking. “That was for earlier.”

She was a sight to see lying there, hanks of silvery hair hanging over her face. One of her braids had started to come undone, but Adachi was more interested in her school-issue skirt, which, dazed as she was, somehow stayed in its proper place above her knees. Christ, could she be more of a tease?

“I hear from Dojima-san that you’re a smart kid. You a fast learner?” 

He rewarded her silence with a swift kick to the ribs.

“Not that fast, I guess,” he sighed. “Anyway, you should’ve figured out what you’ve gotten yourself into by now, right?”

 _Pause for effect._ God, she really had the kind of face that makes you want to ruin it. An undignified grunt served as her response.

“Sounds like a yes to me. I knew you were smart,” he sneered. “But I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and tell you what I want you to do for me.”

Adachi spun a dilapidated folding chair around and fell onto it without grace. Seta’s eyes welled with tears as she made to crawl towards him.

“That’s a good girl,” he murmured, fumbling with his belt. He rested one leg on the top of her head, dirtying her silky hair. “But I think you’re being a little eager. A man doesn’t like it when women are easy, you know, Seta- _chan_.” It felt good to address her like the brat he saw in front of him. “It makes him feel less special.”

As he patronized her, he made a show of grinding his foot into her temple, pushing her skull against the filthy floor. After a moment of thought, he settled his crossed ankles on the curve of her waist, digging the heel of his shoe between her ribs—at least it eased up the pressure on her cheekbone. Seta adjusted her head slightly.

“A personal footstool, though? Now, that’s special. Not every guy has a girl who’ll sink that low for him. Literally!” He snorted. No response. _Whatever, it was a solid joke_. “Anyway, you can stay there for a bit, Seta, until you convince me to let you do otherwise.”

He was high on the power, the feeling of lording over his adversary (a schoolgirl, at that!). Unfortunately, he noticed that the situation wasn’t going quite as planned. Seta was fading fast under his heel.

“Hey!” He punctuated his shout with a sharp kick her forehead. “Wake the fuck up, Seta. I don’t remember saying you could take a nap.”

“I’m sorry, Adachi-san, I’ll go home. I’ll s-stop trying to be the hero, I promise.”

 _Yeah, right_. Another kick to help her wise up.

“P-please.”

Fuck, even her whimpers of pain were cute.

“You know what?” He paused, pretending to consider her proposition. “I think there’s a few better things you can do with your mouth than lie to adults.”

With that, he leaned forward from his rusty throne and grabbed a fistful of hair.

“C’mere. What do you think I want, Seta?” He breathed in her ear. He could see the skin on her arms and chest prickle from his breath. No response, again.

“Silent treatment, huh? Now what’d I ever do to you?” He sat back, dragging her along the floor by her hair until her cheek rested against his thigh. The cheap, black fabric of his work pants stunk of sweat and sake. “I don’t think that’s any way to treat the only person standing between you and those shadows out there.”

He pressed her face against his lap. He’d have to admit—it felt good to finally be able to make this brat do what she’s told.

 _Crack_.

“That’s gotta sting, huh?” He looked at her, sitting there slack-jawed after a good slap. “Still don’t feel like answering me?”

“Y-you want me to touch your…” She trailed off.

Adachi’s smile widened.

“Say it.”

Was the wet spot on his leg tears or saliva?

“You want me to touch you.”

_So modest._

“Can’t find the words, Seta-chan? I can teach you,” he muttered, finally unzipping his trousers. He pressed his length against her face. Not that he couldn’t rub one off on the soft skin of her cheek, but he was looking for more. He could have more.

“Suck it.”

Her lips were sealed.

“Well, if you’re going to be that way,” he sighed, “I guess I’ll have to give you some motivation.”

As he tightened his grip on her hair with one hand, Adachi used the other to pinch Seta’s nose. He directed her head toward himself, pressing the his cock against her mouth.

“You’re gonna have to breathe someday, kid.”

After what felt like minutes, her lips parted, but Seta kept her jaw in place.

“We can’t have this, Seta,” he teased, smearing the saliva her relative obedience granted him around her face with the head of his dick. “See? You’re just making a mess.”

Adachi’s actions betrayed the levity of his tone. No more mister nice guy. He removed his fingers from her nose and began prying her jaw apart.

“Don’t be a bitch,” he hissed. “Open your fucking mouth. And if you even think about letting your teeth graze me,” he dug the toe of his shoe between her ribs, the same place his heel had been before. “Remember how good this feels.”  
And she finally listened. “Put a little effort in, please. I can’t guarantee you’ll like what happens if you don’t.”

He tightened his grip on her hair, but let her decide how to take care of him.

“Good job, Seta-chan,” he sighed. “But use your tongue some more. You know, you’re really lucky you have an older guy to help you out with this kind of stuff. Am I right?” 

She responded with some sort of small, throaty noise that he’ll call agreement, regardless of the tears running down her cheeks. It felt nice. Maybe he could get her to talk some more.

“You ever done this before? I know girls these days grow up pretty fast. I see how much you hang out with that kid, Yosuke. You ever suck him off?”

She made an angry, undignified noise around him and stopped moving. _Fine._ He repositioned the hand in her hair onto the back of her head and forced her head against his pelvis.

“That’s a yes,” he sneered. It was a no, but anything to watch Seta squirm below him. “As good as it feels to show you the ins and outs of sucking cock, the back of your throat is pretty nice, too.” Especially when he could feel her throat contract around him as she panicked, scrambling to free up some space for air.

He yanked her head backwards, freeing himself.

“Wasn’t that fun, Seta? One of the many perks of being an adult.”

Her eyes were swollen, but she didn’t say a word. Adachi gave her hair a warning tug. “Isn’t that right?”

“Y-yes, Adachi-san—” he took advantage of her mouth almost immediately after hearing her say his name.

“Use your tongue and suck now, Seta, I’m almost there,” he groaned. “This’ll be your favourite part, I promise.”

She complied, if only to shut him up. Not that it was any use—he doubled down over her and panted in her ear. If he was trying to make her as miserable as possible, he was doing a great job.

When he finally came, he made sure to pull back a little bit so that she could taste him. It was hot and bitter going down, but fuck it. She was done. Done with the TV World, done with Adachi, done with this. When she got out of here, she never had to see him again. Seta let out a sigh of relief.

Adachi raised an eyebrow at the girl.

“What’s that for?”

For once, she didn’t mind answering. “I mean, I did it. I touched your, uh,” she flicked her eyes toward the door, “your dick. It’s over, you’re gonna let me go now, right?”

He burst into laughter at her suggestion. When he finally calmed down, he asked her another one of his questions.

“You think I’m done?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, power imbalance: what's a more skewed scale than someone who'd die without you there? as for wounds and bruises, i figured that kicks in the ribs would leave a mark. they did for me.
> 
> also, h/c: adachi really likes to hear himself talk. almost as much as he likes hearing the answers he wants from women.
> 
> i want to replay p4g again, because i'm so worried i'm writing his character weird. tried to write him as he is late-game, corrupted with power and torn between kind of a creepy smarm and outbursts of rage. lbr, i'm just projecting my nasty fantasies on him. i think he'd be okay with it, though.
> 
> big shout out to my girlfriend for indulging me so i can see which part of someone's body is the best part to use as a footstool.


End file.
